


Reflection

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2018 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blindfolds, Bottom Derek Hale, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mirror Sex, Power Bottom Derek Hale, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kinktober 2018 - Day 4: Mirror SexPrompt: anonymous said: Loved your All Comers fic. Do you think you can do a similar story. Where Derek is the pass-around bottom of a raunch gay bar. He goes after his day as CFO or something like that from Hale Enterprises.





	Reflection

Derek can feel the anticipatory thrum under his skin as he strips off his suit jacket and tie, leaving them in the car before using the private back entrance to the bar. He’d made an arrangement a long time ago with the owner, and now there’s always a parking spot saved for him, a small locker just inside the door with a combo only he knows, and a code for the employee bathroom so he can get ready. The rest of his clothes come off and go into the locker, the one item in there coming out and going with him as he moves to shower away the stress of a day spent making too many business moves as CEO of Hale Enterprises. He doesn’t come here often, doesn’t have time, but he loves the way it makes all of his worries melt away. When he’s as clean as he can be, he picks up the thin material and moves to the door of the private room he loves so much, tying it over his face once he’s stepped inside, covering his eyes and moving through the room with the deft ease of someone who’s spent plenty of time in it, knows where everything is. 

The hand-pump lube bottle is exactly where he expects to find it, and he twists around as he quickly works himself open - aiming his ass at the large mirror that he knows takes up one entire wall. Sometimes he thinks about forgoing the blindfold, but he likes it better this way really. Likes knowing that he has no idea what - or who - is coming. He supposes he could leave it off for this first part of the night, but he doesn’t much care to watch his own hole open up - though he hopes the men behind the two-way mirror (if there are any - although if experience is right, there are probably quite a few) are enjoying the show. There’s another mirror on the opposite wall - this one solidly reflective. It lets whoever is watching see his face too, and soon it will let anyone see the full show. When his hole is finally relaxed enough, he moves back around to the other side of the low padded table, leaning over it, spreading his cheeks with his hands. He’s sure the men can see the way he’s winking his hole in the reflection of that second mirror, and he says the only word he’ll really say all night (not that he’ll be quiet by any stretch).

“Ready.”

Derek’s ears pick up the sound of the door next to the two-way mirror swishing open, hears briefly the loud buzz of conversation and music from the bar beyond. He knows there’s a line of patrons waiting for access to this room - to him, but there’s also a bar full of people who get a clear view into this room as well. It’s set behind the actual bar, raised up several feet so that the shelves of liquor don’t impede any views. The first time Derek walked into this place and saw what was available, he’d made a beeline to the bartender and asked for the manager, who referred him right away to the owner. He still thinks it’s one of the best decisions he’s ever made. He’s brought out of his thoughts when he feels the brush of someone’s clothing against his skin, hears the telltale sign of a zipper and the unmistakable sound of a condom packet ripping open. Derek wishes he could tell them he doesn’t want that, but the owner had been clear about the rules, and he wants and needs this too much to argue.

Clearly the man had been paying attention to the way Derek had opened himself up, because he wastes no time once the condom is on, shoving in with one quick stroke and setting a punishing rhythm, the zipper of his slacks biting into the skin of Derek’s cheeks as he drives his cock in hard and fast. The sensation is enough to make Derek harden against the table, but that’s about all the man manages to accomplish for him. The man’s cock is average, not too small or big, but he’s got no finesse to his strokes, just hammers away, occasionally glancing across Derek’s prostate, but never really getting it good. It doesn’t matter though, Derek’s cock still leaks, his mind still wanders, wondering who it is behind him, if it’s someone he knows, maybe someone he sees all the time. This is why he comes here - for the anonymity. Knowing these men can see him, can know who he is, but he doesn’t get the same. He loves wondering if a lingering glance is because he’s attractive or because the man knows him intimately, has buried their cock in his ass while a bar full of people watched on, watched him moan and grunt and beg to be filled up over and over again. The man finishes while Derek is still thinking about that, swats him on the ass as he pulls out, upends the condom over Derek’s cheeks, zips himself away, and then leaves, the door swishing again, letting him out and the next one in.

This man takes a little more time, drops his pants down entirely, caresses Derek’s cheeks (avoiding the mess left by the last guy), fingers him a little before opening up another condom. He pushes in slower, his cock girthier, letting Derek feel the extra stretch. Derek can’t help but moan when it brushes lightly over his prostate, the thickness allowing for light but continuous pressure. This man rolls his hips, his balls slapping lightly against Derek’s on each inward thrust, hand planted firmly on Derek’s lower back to keep him in place. Derek loses himself in a fantasy that this is someone he knows, someone who cares about him. He’d hardly even call this fucking, the careful long strokes inside too smooth and slow. The man doesn’t pick up the pace until he’s close, and even then he tries to angle to give more pressure against Derek’s prostate, trying to help him get off - but Derek’s stamina is well-honed after all the time he’s spent in this bar, his cock leaking copiously but without any urgency to it. He’ll last for hours yet. When the man’s rhythm starts to falter, he pulls out - still so careful - and Derek hears the snap of latex as he yanks the condom off, the slick sounds of the guy jacking his cock, and it’s less than a minute before he can feel hot droplets of come painting his lower back, dripping down his sides. There’s no swat to the ass this time, just a quietly whispered ‘thanks’ - the voice too low and raspy to be recognizable (if it even would be). Another swish of the door and the next man is in.

It’s a blur after that, Derek losing track of how many cocks he’s taken, just knowing that everyone is getting a good show - the mirrors on either side of the table assuring that. Some of the men are vocal about it, ask him how he likes knowing that everyone is watching, telling him they wish he could see how beautiful his slutty little hole is, how amazing it is to be able to watch themselves fucking him. Every word, every thrust, every stretch when a cock is longer or thicker, makes him leak harder. He’s a mess, he can feel it, feels come painting his skin, dripping down the backs of his thighs, hell - he’s pretty sure someone even came in his hair at one point. He’s finally close, knows it’s been hours since he first walked into this room. The last time the door opens, he can hear the bartender letting everyone know it’s last call and he knows whoever just walked in is the last man they’ll allow to enter tonight. Part of him wishes he didn’t have to stop when the alcohol stopped flowing in the other room, but he knows he does. Knows they expect him to be gone by the time they lock the front door.

The last man doesn’t waste time getting over to him, and he’s only faintly disappointed when he can feel slacks brushing against the backs of his thighs. He likes it better when they drop them, when he can feel their balls slapping into his, but he’ll take what he can get. This guy is a lot like the second, takes the time to push a couple fingers inside him, make sure he’s still stretched open and wet. He’s surprised when he feels the brush of clothing shift over him, his body almost covered as the man leans down after pumping a little more lube onto his fingers and pushing them back inside his hole.

“You’re a fucking mess, wish you could see it.” Derek just nods - thinks the voice sounds vaguely familiar, though he can’t place it - not with the way it’s whispering. “Don’t worry dirty boy, I know exactly what you need.” The fingers shove in and out of him a few more times before the body lifts up and away. Derek hears the crinkle and tearing of a condom packet, shifts a little to brace himself better, and then freezes when he feels a blunt cockhead against his rim. He knows what cocks feel like when they’re covered in condoms - is more than intimately familiar with it - and this is not that. The man behind him must have his in a firm grasp, because he feels it push a little against his pucker before being dragged slowly and carefully all around it, up and down, almost as if the man is waiting for something. It takes Derek a second to realize that he is.

“Yes,” his voice is soft, barely audible, his head turned back towards the man he can’t see. The word is a green light that the man doesn’t hesitate to accept, pushing in with one long, steady thrust. Derek can’t stop himself from crying out, feeling the smoother slide of hot skin against his insides. His ass ripples and clenches around the man, giving him a better ride than he’d given anyone else earlier. He finds himself pushing back into the thrusts, enjoying it more when the soft slacks slip away and he feels hairy thighs smacking into his own, a fat nutsack slapping against his balls. Strong hands grip onto his shoulders, helping to yank him back onto the cock ramming in and out of him, and a twist of the man’s hips have his cockhead battering against Derek’s prostate on every in-thrust. Between that and the slippery slide against the tabletop beneath him, Derek’s clenching up as he cries out within a few short minutes, his ass gripping the cock inside of him, forcing the man’s orgasm out as well. Derek swears he can feel the pulse and twitch of the man’s cock, feel the come spurting into him. He absolutely can feel it when the man pulls out and some of the mess slides out, down his taint and over his balls. Thick fingers slide against his skin, gathering the mess and pushing it back inside him, even as the man leans over him again.

“Clench up dirty boy, keep that inside until they can’t see you.” Derek nods to show he understands, hears the faint tinkle of a belt buckle as the man pulls his pants up one-handed, feels dry latex slide over his hole as the man presumably slides the condom he’d opened but not used around, making it look as if it had been inside of him, dropping it to the ground with a wet sounding splat. Derek is ready when the fingers slip out of him, clenches his hole up as tight as he can after having so many cocks in him tonight, feels only a little running out of him. “Good, until next time.” The man is still whispering in that almost-familiar voice and Derek has the urge to rip off the blindfold, see who it is. He doesn’t though, remembers how exciting not knowing is. When the door swishes closed for the last time, he levers himself up, slips the blindfold off. The mirrors don’t hide anything - his sweat slicked skin flushed from exertion, the sticky, flaky mess all over him - come from himself and countless strangers. Someone _did_ come in his hair, if the way it’s dried funny and sticking up is any indication. He feels satisfied in a way he hasn’t since the last time he came here - maybe even more so when he feels another small trickle leak out of his hole. He does his best to clench tighter, trying not to waddle as he turns and heads back out of the room the way he came in.

Normally, Derek would shower - at least rinse off, but tonight he just goes straight to the locker, quickly redressing and tossing the blindfold back in, slipping out the backdoor and nodding goodbye to the bouncer. He doesn’t relax until he’s safely in his car, breathing out a sigh of relief as his hole unclenches and a flood of come wets his briefs and slacks - and probably the seat of his car. He doesn’t care, relishes that he finally, _finally_ , got what he needed most. As he gets ready to drive home, enjoying the mess in his pants, he almost misses the white index card on his passenger seat. Someone must have slipped it in through his cracked window. He picks it up, flips it over, and smiles at what he finds there, knowing he’ll be getting a lot more satisfaction much more often soon.

_If you need more of what I gave you during the week, don’t hesitate to text - I’ll meet you anywhere as long as you wear the blindfold: 555-223-9653_

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


End file.
